A Sleep Like Unto Death
by Kick Flaw
Summary: Wherein Sirius falls victim to a terrible potion and Remus has to find it within himself to save his best friend's life. MWPP. SLASH. Remus/Sirius. Complete.
1. Sleeping

Title: A Sleep Like Unto Death (1/2)  
Author: Kicks (kick_flaw@hotmail.com)  
Archive: fanfiction.net under Kick Flaw, my site:  
http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/kick_flaw/ (eventually)  
Pairing(s): Remus/Sirius, James/Lily, Peter/OC  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: angst, lots of Marauder-centric parts  
Feedback: Please.  
Disclaimer: Is there any cross-dressing in Harry Potter? No? Then I still   
don't own it.  
Summary: When Sirius messes up a potion mortally, can Remus find it in   
himself to admit his feelings and save the boy he loves?  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
  
A Sleep Like Unto Death  
  
James finished his weekly clean-up with an exasperated sigh. Clean-up, of   
course, meant stuffing anything out of place under his bed, but that   
ever-so-trying task wasn't the cause of his fraying nerves. The cause was   
cross-legged on the floor at the far end of the room, and was fully ignoring   
the mess in his cordoned area as well as their impending Double Potions   
class. "Sirius, you haven't even dressed yet!" James huffed.  
  
Sirius, utterly absorbed in his newest experiment, failed to respond. Vials   
clicked, liquids combined, solids dissolved and formed, that was all that   
mattered to his distracted best friend. James tugged his bed curtains shut   
and went to work on Sirius' space.  
  
"You know, Double Potions starts in ten minutes. If you stop now you *might*   
be able to get there on time. I'm not going to wait for you this time. Last   
time you did this we were twenty minutes late! And may I remind you that   
that incident was just last week? Professor Thatcher will have your head!   
It's not like your chemicals won't be here when we get back. Sirius!"  
  
Sirius blandly clicked a timer on and hooked a thin tube between two of his   
strange nozzles. All the years James had spent as the muggle-born boy's best   
friend and he still didn't grasp the 'fine art' called Chemistry. He did   
like it though, when it wasn't threatening his schedule.  
  
"Relax, Prongs." said Sirius, a bit late. "Thatcher adores me. She didn't   
give us a detention last week, remember?"  
  
"Only because you did that smile thing to her."  
  
"Then I'll do 'that smile thing' again. You're missing the point. I can't   
leave this to boil unsupervised. Do you have any idea what that could do to   
my beaker?" he shuddered.  
  
"Merlin help me. Double. Potions. Hello? Double Potions!" James emphasized   
his very good point by throwing a quill at Sirius' head. The boy had a   
buggered priority system.  
  
"Hey." protested said boy as he half-heartedly rubbed where the sharp end of   
the writing instrument had hit, then promptly forgot about it. "Quit it. I'm   
trying to concentrate." Another clink, bubble, whoosh accompanied his   
nonsensical mumblings. Something about hydrochloric whatsit and catalystic   
reactions, whatever. James viciously kicked various muggle clothing   
underneath his friend's bed and tugged those curtains closed too, not   
bothering to tidy Sirius' pile of blankets. Four or five at least tangled up   
in what resembled a snowball fort or a bird's nest. If anyone needed extra   
blankets it was Remus, with his below-average body temperature. Remus, who   
was probably half-way to class. A glance at the mechanism that magically   
clocked each Marauder, designed by Sirius himself in a fit of genius,   
affirmed that Remus and Peter were indeed safely on their way.  
  
"Padfoot!" James snapped.  
  
"Go on, already! I won't be long."  
  
"Fine." he shouldered his bag and headed for the hall. "Remember to change.   
And try brushing your hair? You're welcome."  
  
"What?" but the door had banged shut. Sirius shrugged, returning to his   
work. James would eat his words when they smoked out the Slytherin's   
Quidditch practice. Ah, the joys of chemistry.  
  
*  
  
The Potions room was a wide, large, square place, with shelving over all   
available wall-space and a small platform at the front for the teacher to   
use in demonstrations. Three rows of four-person desks stretched from the   
entrance to the platform, black, scarred from use. The floor was blackened   
in some areas, but never dusty, and the jars crowding each shelf were always   
full. Extra cauldrons cluttered the corner to the left of the platform;   
High-light candles illuminated the entire room. The classroom reflected its   
teacher -neat, open, and intelligent. Remus made himself comfortable at the   
middle-row table he and the Marauders shared, almost looking forward to   
today's brewing session.  
  
A bag dropped next to the empty chair at his side.  
  
"Uh oh." he said when James took his seat alone. Not good.  
  
"Yup." intoned the wild-haired wizard, doom in his voice. "He's at it   
again."  
  
"And you left him?! Are you crazy?"  
  
James held his hands up defensively. "Hey, I have a team to train, I can't   
afford to risk any more detentions than I do regularly."  
  
"You trust him?" Remus looked doubtful, sitting forward to lay out his fresh   
notescroll and quill. James, shaking his head, mimicked his actions.  
  
"There was nothing I could do. You *know* how he gets." they shared a   
knowing look. "Besides, the best stuff is born when the process goes   
uninhibited. Who can fight inspiration?"  
  
Remus arched one sarcastic brow. Sirius was notorious for his 'inspiration'.   
When it struck nothing got through that black head. Scribbled napkins,   
bizarre symbols scrawled on the back of his hand, parchments of notes that   
sporadically trailed off into disorganized ideas and mapped equations,   
drawings of hypothetical results on desktops -all a part of that mysterious   
force they loosely dubbed 'inspiration'. Over the years they'd taken to   
lugging a scroll and quill with them everywhere, just in case; If Sirius   
couldn't jot that muggle intricacy down he tended to get a little twitchy.   
And, like James had stated, Sirius thought up some marvelous things, things   
they didn't want to miss for lack of proper supplies. It was endearing.   
Frustrating, but endearing. To Remus anyway.  
  
Still, common sense made him wary. Sirius had a bad habit of blowing things   
up when no one was around. "Remember what happened the last time we left him   
alone? A quick trip to the common room and boom! Up went the whole back half   
of our room. He was lucky to survive." Horrible thought, that.  
  
"The scariest part is that he was laughing." James muttered, and Remus   
nodded in total agreement. "Let's not jinx it, ok? Where's Pete? The clock   
said he was here."  
  
"Oh..." Remus winced. "He and Ronnie had a fight." he pointed to the slumped   
bundle at his other side. "It's not pretty."  
  
James gaped. "A fight? But Pete and Ronnie don't fight! Everybody knows   
that!"  
  
"Apparently they do."  
  
Peter and Veronica Springhip had been dating for two years, two disgustingly   
perfect years. The whole sixth year class maintained a healthy state of awe   
at the sweetness and maturity and understanding that passed between them.   
Not only was it an inter-house relationship -Ronnie was a Hufflepuff- it was   
a marriage of exact likenesses, and everyone in the wizarding world knew   
that those dulled and ended quickly. Yet somehow they'd become a staple, a   
constant, something to rely on, especially for the Marauders. Mainly due to   
the fact that James, their intrepid leader, thrived on security and routine,   
and that that very same boy was embroiled in a rollercoaster of a   
relationship with the famous Lily Evans. Besides, people had expectations.   
They counted on Sirius to be anti-sexual, Remus to be asexual, James to   
fighting and/or making up with Lily, and Peter to be wallowing in   
near-domestic bliss. That was how it worked.  
  
James really hated when a screw came loose in the well-oiled machinary of   
his life. "Damn it." he growled. "This is shaping up to be a terrible day."  
  
Remus patted him on the head.  
  
"No kidding." moaned the disconsolant lump they called Wormtail.  
  
"Oh come on, guys, it's bound to get better."  
  
"Thanks, Remus. You just jinxed it."  
  
"I hate optimists."  
  
Professor Thatcher called class to attention, otherwise Remus would have   
taken offense at Peter's optimist comment. The sixth year Gryffindors and   
Slytherins shuffled their notescrolls into use as a lecture on various   
sleeping potions began. Thatcher always did a brewing on Double days, so she   
tended to launch straight into those lesssons. They served as an effective   
conversation stopper. Her concise, unrepetitive teaching method left a   
student confused if he or she didn't catch everything. Sirius was definitely   
in trouble.  
  
Fortunately for the black-haired boy the only one who topped him in Potions   
was Severus Snape. He just had a knack for brewing things, chemically or   
magically.  
  
Remus smiled and doodled a large, black dog in his margin. He had such a   
hard time paying attention when Sirius was dancing around in his head. The   
picture was drifting into a pattern of stars and hearts when the class door   
thudded open and he jumped, whispering a quick erasing spell. James and he   
shared another knowing look out of the corner of their eyes.  
  
"Well." Professor Thatcher ceased her lecture mid-word, gesturing with an   
expectant hand. "Mr. Black. Good morning. So nice to see you."  
  
Sirius struggled to keep his books balanced. "Good morning, Professor."  
  
"You're a fright, young man."  
  
"Yeah." sheepishly -he really was. Blue-violet eyes darted out from beneath   
mussed bangs, alert, but his shoulder-length hair was uncombed, his shoes   
were only half on, and his robes were disheveled enough to expose the muggle   
jeans and t-shirt he wore underneath. The books he carried barely stayed in   
his arms. "I took a tumble down one of the staircases and everything   
scattered. That's why I'm late. Sorry, Professor Thatcher." he lied smoothly   
and-  
  
-Smiled.  
  
No matter how violently Sirius espoused the negatives of dating, that smile   
still sent hopeful hearts aflutter. It was wide and a twinge lop-sided and   
his lips had a way of parting that echoed the painted mouths of showgirls,   
painfully charming. Small, white teeth gleamed. An endless line of girl   
melted for him when he smiled, sought his heart, his arm, always ended up   
disappointed. Because Sirius Black -breath-taking, clumsy Sirius Black-   
didn't date. Ever.  
  
Thatcher shook her head tolerantly, affected. "Clumsy, as ever. Are you   
hurt?"  
  
"Oh no. I wasn't up very far. Thanks."  
  
"Sit down then. Let me know if you begin to feel unwell. You may need to see   
Madame Pomfrey."  
  
"Sure thing." Sirius teetered to the empty spot next to James and dropped   
his load of books loudly before seating himself. The sleep-inducing lesson   
on sleeping potions resumed; the class' attention shifted from Sirius, who   
was searching for his notes, back to Thatcher. Amidst the scuffling, Snape's   
snide insult went unheard by all but the Marauders sans Peter, who was too   
busy grieving to care.  
  
"So, how many galleons did you pay her not to give you a detention this   
time? Oh that's right, you only have *muggle* money, and little at that. My   
apologies. Did you sleep with her as recompense?"  
  
"If I say yes will it feed your sick fantasies long enough to keep you away   
from me for the rest of the day?" Sirius replied, though one wouldn't know   
it from the cheerful expression he plastered on.  
  
Snape hissed. "The only fantasies I have involving are the blood kind,   
Black."  
  
"Oooh, kinky."  
  
"You're disgusting."  
  
"No, actually, I wash regularly. I can teach you if you want. You certainly   
need the lesson. No offense."  
  
"None taken. I learned early on to ignore the idiocy of the smaller-brained   
species."  
  
Remus rolled his eyes and tried to focus on whatever it was Thatcher was   
spouting. Their skill had to be lauded, as childish as it all was The entire   
battle took place without them so much as glancing at each other. In fact   
both looked attentive, positive even. It was a wonder that they heard each   
other, with the isle between them and their voices so low. Remus didn't have   
a problem, being cursed with heightened senses, but they certainly should   
have. Perhaps they had a built-in insult-radar that allowed them to pick up   
any derogatory remark clearly.  
  
Oh, nice, I'm thinking in mechanical terms, Remus thought. I'm thinking like   
Sirius.  
  
But it was better to think like him than of him. It was hopeless, after all.  
  
*  
  
Peter caught the batwing slices before they could ruin the potion the   
Marauders were working on. Such speed was unlike him -he was the solid,   
plodding type- but he saved their concoction nonetheless. For once.  
  
"Thanks, Pete." Remus let out a relieved breath as he recorded the latest   
component. Thatcher insisted that all groups keep a list of their   
ingredients and measurements exactly as they went into the cauldron as a   
safety precaution. That way if something went wrong she could trace the   
mistake and brew a proper cure. He was always saddled with writing it   
because his handwriting was by far the best. Had James or Sirius or Peter   
been in charge it would have been chaotic. "I thought we were goners."  
  
"We should be so lucky." James glowered. "More like our *grades* would have   
been goners."  
  
"What's this about gone grades?" Asked Sirius as he plopped the bottle of   
chrysanthemum root he'd gone after down.  
  
"Snape knocked batwings over our cauldron, but Pete caught them in time."  
  
"Mmm." a smirk quirked his lips. "Your grades. Not mine."  
  
"Shut up." growled James.  
  
Professor Thatcher had asigned the class a variety of sleeping potions which   
they were to sample when complete. Each group had a different drought, and   
one of each group had to take on the dubious chore of sampling whatever the   
amateurs had brewed. All of the antedotes had been prepared prior to class,   
unfortunately, so any enterprising student hoping for an excuse to sleep   
away the afternoon was disappointed. The Marauders had gotten a fairly   
unchallenging Easy-Rest Potion, to Sirius dismay. He'd been yearning for one   
of the stronger Somnomnis ones, though the others had been gracious enough   
to assuage his wounded intellect by allowing to him to be the sampler.  
  
Remus smiled to himself. It was all so normal.  
  
"We need rock salt."  
  
"Padfoot, fetch!"  
  
"Watch it, Hornhead."  
  
"Ha ha." James nudged Remus smugly. "He went. All I need now is a leash."  
  
Remus laughed. "I dare you."  
  
"Bad idea."  
  
"It'll be funny. I can see it now. You dragging him to one of those prissy   
dog shows, all done up, growling. We could have Tori dress him in her bows.   
Pink ones!"  
  
Peter and James practically fell over cackling as Remus pantomimed the   
event. Their amusement increased twofold when the light-haired wizard threw   
a pretend-leash around Sirius' neck upon the boy's return. Sirius, to his   
credit, remained bewildered only long enough to decide to pretend it hadn't   
happened. The potion called.  
  
"I hope you boys have a good reason to be slacking. I don't see any work   
being done." Thatcher interloped on their game. But her voice wasn't   
condemning, unlike Professor Cigel, the doom-and-gloom Divinations teacher   
whose very posture forbade human emotions. One too many visionary nightmares   
had soured him -he had a way of staring at Peter that unnerved anybody   
nearby.  
  
Remus, James, and Peter went quiet. Even if Professor Thatcher was in a   
lenient mood it was unlikely she'd let them get away with careless brewing.   
Potions were too dangerous for anything but intense concentration. That was   
why they let Sirius do all the work. It was only fair; They all rode on each   
other's strengths in one class or another.  
  
"Actually, Professor." Sirius pinched in a bit of rock salt and saved his   
friends at the same time. The potion turned blue. "We're done."  
  
"Hmmm." Thatcher began her usual check-over of Remus' list while Sirius   
filled a vial with Easy-Rest to drink. The other boys relaxed. Another   
successful Double Potions. Remus had been leery of letting Sirius handle the   
brewing, after all he'd missed most of the lesson, but the other boy had   
assured him of his ability, and once again it seemed he'd pulled it off.  
  
He mimicked the leashing again; James and Peter snickered.  
  
"This isn't right..." the Professor said suddenly, green eyes narrowing.   
Then horror suddenly, frighteningly dawned. "Wait! Sirius! No!"  
  
But it was too late.  
  
*  
  
James leapt up, but it was Remus who caught Sirius as he fell. Though he   
lost his own balance to the awkward catch, the werewolf's lightning-fast   
reflexes saved Sirius from smashing into any number of deadly corners.   
Together they plunged to the floor. Chairs skittered beneath their combined   
weight, knocking tables and crashing noisily out into the isle. Cauldrons   
spilt. Shrieks rang out from the surrounding tables and instantly students   
were flocking to the scene of the commotion, slipping on hot potions and   
bumping into each other heedlessly.  
  
"Oh my god!" cried the first one to see.  
  
Sirius lay limp, sprawled in Remus' lap like a lifeless bag of flesh and   
bone. There was no color to his skin. He wasn't breathing.  
  
"Sirius!" Panicked by the death-still form of his friend, Remus frantically   
pressed his hands to Sirius' neck. "Sirius! Shit!" Fingers sought a pulse   
and found none.  
  
James dropped to his knees and did the same with his wrist. "Sear!" Nothing.   
Brown eyes met amber wildly. "He's got no heartbeat!"  
  
Peter stood, hand over mouth, stunned.  
  
The classroom erupted.  
  
Thatcher had to use a magnifying spell to make her voice heard over the   
chaos. "Someone get the Headmaster!" she yelled. The sound of it rocked   
through the room like thunder. "Now!" As soon as she saw a pale head dart   
out the door she shoved her way through the throng and knelt with James and   
Remus, eyes scanning Sirius intently.  
  
"Professor!" Remus begged. "Help! He's not breathing! He's got no pulse!"  
  
"Please." She thumbed the pulse-point. "Just...calm down." Her voice   
quavered.  
  
"Calm down?!" screeched James. "Calm down?! That's my best friend! I won't   
calm down!" But he forgot her then and focussed on the fallen wizard with   
all his will. His strong hands cupped Sirius' drooping head, turning it to   
face him; he stared at the slack features achingly. "Please." he whispered.   
"Don't be dead. Please."  
  
"He can't be dead." Remus whispered. "He can't be dead." He fisted his own   
hands in the wrinkled robe covering Sirius' shoulders. There was no attempt   
made to hide the terror he felt.  
  
Professor Thatcher leaned back, head down.  
  
"He can't be dead." James repeated, meeting Remus' gaze, equally   
terror-stricken. Loosing Sirius would destroy him. The aggravation he'd felt   
that morning seemed petty and useless. He couldn't leave Sirius with those   
words. He couldn't.  
  
"He's not dead." She touched both gently on the shoulder. "Don't worry,   
boys. He's not dead. In a way."  
  
Both snapped their eyes to her. "In a way?!" Remus echoed and clutched   
Sirius harder. A pale hand fell lifelessly to the floor.  
  
"It's hard to explain.  
  
"Just explain!"  
  
"I-"  
  
"Professor!" called the student who'd run for Dumbledore. "The Headmaster is   
here!"  
  
The message spread like a balm on the upset students. Clamoring voices   
quieted, breath came slower. It was all right now, Dumbledore could mend   
anything. He strode rapidly through the room, tranquilty followed as he   
passed. The very sound of his robes brought security. Peace in the simple   
whoosh of heavy velvet.  
  
"Marigold, what happened?" his serious, uncondemning eyes took in the scope   
of the disaster immediately.  
  
"A sleeping potion went wrong, Albus." Thatcher said, standing. "Mr. Black   
has drunk a Fairy Tale Potion, I fear."  
  
Dumbledore closed his bright eyes and didn't speak for a long minute.  
  
Then, having steeled himself, he dropped a steady hand on James' shoulder.   
"Be at ease, Mr. Potter." James sagged. "You as well, Mr. Lupin. Your friend   
is fine."  
  
"But, Professor." Remus wiped at his eyes. "He's-"  
  
"Asleep. Deeply, deeply, deathly asleep. And he can be awoken."  
  
Remus tried to force himself to trust the man who'd done so much for him.   
Dumbledore wouldn't misled him. But his instincts screamed against it. He   
cradled as much of Sirius as he could fit in his lap, not quite believing.   
It was too unreal. No pulse, no breath, no life. The wolf inside was howling   
a dirge.  
  
"I understand your doubt, Mr. Lupin. But tell me, he's still warm, right?"   
The Headmaster could sense his disbelief. And Sirius was warm, he was. Remus   
felt something uncoil and leave him gasping.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well then, perhaps we'd better get him to a bed." Dumbledore smiled. With   
surprsing strength and agility, the aging wizard bent and scooped Sirius'   
limp form into his arms. Robes askew, hair tangled, pale and corpse-like,   
Sirius hardly looked like a bride, but that was the image that sprung to   
Remus' mind.  
  
No time for fantasies, he chided himself. Not so close to losing him.  
  
James stood, helped him to his feet and gathered Peter, always the leader.   
Without asking permission they trailed behind their encumbered Headmaster   
whereever he may hed, so long as he possessed something so sacred to them.  
  
The Marauders first loyalty was to each other.  
  
*  
  
Gloriously soft marroon pillows and slick, black hair framed the white,   
still face of Sirius. The bed he lay in was Dumbledore's own, a king-size   
affair with thick curtains and blankets silken to the touch. Deep red,   
almost ruby, and trimmed in silver, it dominated the Headmaster's bedroom.   
Sirius' slender form was nearly overwhelmed by the luxury, but he appeared   
peaceful. Dumbledore had stretched him out straight on his back and arranged   
his hands gently across his stomach, just like the sleeping princess of   
childhood tales. Double Potions had been dismissed early -now Dumbledore,   
joined by the Marauders and Professor Thatcher, sat in dark-wood chairs   
around the extraordinary bed.  
  
James had not yet ceased his demands for an explanation.  
  
"My dear boy," the Headmaster smoothed the blanket over Sirius' form. "If   
you would be silent, perhaps I could explain." It was as close to a   
reprimand as he'd ever come to giving the wild-haired boy.  
  
Remus jabbed James. "Shut up."  
  
"Ow. Fine. I'm just worried, ok?" James snapped. Anxiety marred his brow the   
way it would a captain's when one of his troop went down.  
  
"I understand, Mr. Potter, I really do, but you must believe me when I say   
Mr. Black will be all right. He just tripped his way into another bit of   
trouble." the bearded man chuckled. "A little more than he could handle,   
unfortunately."  
  
James' eyes narrowed. "It's not funny."  
  
"Stop it!" Remus hissed. "You're being an arse."  
  
"I'm. Worried!"  
  
"So am I, but I'm not losing control!"  
  
"Bugger control, I'm scared. I'm bloody scared! What if they're wrong?"  
  
Peter lifted his head, finally, and glared at the them from the place he'd   
silently taken across the bed. "You're both out of control. Would you just   
be quiet?!" he snarled.  
  
"Boys." Dumbledore was all seriousness as he swept them each up in his   
bright blue eyes. "I'm not wrong."  
  
James and Remus looked away, ashamed.  
  
"No, he's not." Affirmed Thatcher. "Mr. Black drank a Fairy Tale Potion, and   
while it's not the easiest thing to remedy, it *can* be done, if the proper   
steps are taken."  
  
"That's where we need your help." Dumbledore said.  
  
They spoke at the same time. "Anything."  
  
"What can we do, Professor?" Peter asked.  
  
"First allow me to enlighten you about Mr. Black's condition. It's a bit   
messy, so no interruptions. Ok?"  
  
All three nodded.  
  
Dumbledore relaxed slightly, making himself more comfortable before   
beginning. The lights in his room dimmed in time to his mood, no longer the   
glaring starkness of when they'd entered. It didn't help the boys. Remus   
wrung his hands and James gripped the armrests so hard his knuckles were   
white. Unnaturally pale, like Sirius' bloodless flesh.  
  
"Fairy Tale Potions were first discovered in the late 1400s by a man named   
Florencio Masciangelo in Italy. He was a dark wizard, notable for more than   
just his potion-making abilities. His skill was combining love-magic with   
other kinds to create especially dangerous enchantments. The Adoratus charm   
is credited to him as well, which I'm sure you studied in Defense Against   
the Dark Arts. The three Fairy Tale Potions were of later design, perfected   
close to the end of his life, when he was markedly more insane. He called   
them 'I Baci di Amore Allineare'. 'The Kisses of True Love'.  
  
Each potion holds true to his usual style, a melding of love-magic and   
potent curses. Whoever drinks the potion falls victim to whatever curse it   
involves, and can only be cured by exactly that, a Kiss of True Love. The   
first is called 'Beast's Kiss', which turns the drinker into a monstrous   
beast. The second is 'Sea's Kiss', which turns the drinker into a creature   
of the waters, like a frog or a mermaid. The third is the most dangerous,   
because the curse is extremely subtle, and, without the necessary knowledge,   
can be mistaken for death. That is 'Sleep's Kiss', which spells the drinker   
into a 'sleep like unto death'.  
  
The Kiss of True Love is the only antedote for any of these potions. Because   
they toy with love and form and time they have been expressly forbidden   
since their creation. The few instances of their use have been terrible.   
Even the muggle world was affected, though that history has long since   
passed into myth. That is how the name 'Fairy Tale' came to distinguish them   
-because of the fairy tales muggles have based on their influence. 'Beauty   
and the Beast', 'Snow White', 'The Frog Prince', 'The Little Mermaid', and   
'Sleeping Beauty' are some of those legends. 'Sleeping Beauty' fits quite   
nicely our mishap, if any of you are familiar with it. Mr. Black as fallen   
victim to an accidental 'Sleep's Kiss' Potion."  
  
Finished, Dumbledore leaned forward and stroked a stray strand of hair off   
of Sirius' cheek. Thatcher was nodding to herself, satisfied with the gieven   
explanation. But James, Remus, and Peter could only stare at their   
slumbering friend and try to absorb the implications. It hit James first,   
vocally.  
  
"But -if -that means...that the only thing that can wake him up is a Kiss of   
True Love." he said, aghast.  
  
"Merlin..." Peter breathed, wide-eyed. "Unreal."  
  
Remus sat still, very still, and silent. The hazel-gold of his gaze alighted   
on Sirius' black lashes, sweeping gently his porcelain cheek, and seemed   
numbed. Intense and numbed.  
  
"That is why we need your help." continued the Headmaster. "You know Mr.   
Black better than anyone I dare say. Is he involved with anyone? Is there   
anyone who may love him truly?"  
  
Slow terror flooded James' face. "No. He refuses to dat, to even *like*   
anybody. He absolutely doesn't love anybody like that. I'd know if he did   
and..he doesn't! There has to be another way!"  
  
Thatcher shook her head. "I'm afraid there isn't any other way. He'll sleep   
until he receives the right Kiss, and it that's never, he'll sleep   
eternally, never aging, never dying." she brushed the dark-haired boy's   
hands with her fingertips sadly. "This Fairy Tale Potion suspends life   
completely."  
  
"Wait." Dumbledore's wuick intervention prevented James from having an   
emotional meltdown. "You misunderstand the idea, Mr. Potter. Mr. Black   
doesn't have to love the Kisser, the Kisser has to love Mr. Black. Requital   
has nothing to do with it."  
  
"But nobody is in love with Sirius! He won't let anybody!"  
  
A grave smile curved Dumbledore's lips. "Nothing can stop a love from   
existing if it was meant to exist."  
  
Pangs wracked Remus suddenly, as if his heart were spasming, starving.  
  
"Surely someone has made as advance for him." Professor Thatcher insisted.  
  
"Well, yeah. Plenty of girls have asked him out. Lots claim to be in love   
with him, half of the Gryffindors at least, and some from other houses too.   
How do we tell who truly loves him?" asked James.  
  
It only it had been him under the spell, this would have been so much   
easier. For all that he and Lily fought, the love between them was true. Or   
Peter, because Ronnie would have kissed him awake regardless of whatever   
disagreement had sundered them. But Sirius was surrounded by such a   
maelstrom of crushes. Proclamations of undying love came to him all the   
time, and there were numerous girls who swooned over him regularly. His   
looks, his wit, his brilliance, even his clumsiness drew romance to him like   
a magnet. No one stood out as a True Lover in the swarms. It would be   
impossible to determine which girl wanted to spend her life with him and   
which just wanted to claim him. If anyone really did.  
  
"We'll have all of them try kissing him then."  
  
"But what if none of them truly love him?" was James' question to that.  
  
Dumbledore stood. "So many questions, young Potter. I highly doubt that will   
be the case." he pulled his long wand out of his sleeve, and the others   
stood as well; James' mouth opened around another worried inquiry, undetered   
by the Headmaster's comment, but Dumbledore preempted him. "And if that *is*   
the case, he will sleep."  
  
"But-"  
  
Th white-haired wizard struck his wand upon the air. With a sound like   
earth-crashing the bed disappeared and Sirius with it. The room shuddered.  
  
"He will sleep."  
  
*  
  
The day had passed.  
  
The sun was barely above the horizon -pinks, oranges, purples had just begun   
to paint the clouds. Sunset. Remus curled up on the wide windowsill, alone   
in the room he shared with the Marauders, and watched, feeling the moonrise,   
reveling in the tingles that pricked his nerves. This was familiar, and   
suddenly, next to the thought of losing Sirius, not so scary anymore.  
  
Remus stretched a hand out until his fingers knocked the glass. He pressed   
his palm into its cool comfort, and oh, how he wished he could touch the   
sky. To steal its blossoming color and smear it into bone-white   
corpse-flesh. To kiss such flesh red, living.  
  
And oh, how he wished Sirius wasn't so untouchable, so like the sky.  
  
*  
  
TBC 


	2. Waking

A Sleep Like Unto Death (2/2)  
  
When Dumbledore had magicked his bed away it reappeared, to the surprise of   
everyone present, in the Great Hall. The north end's elevated platform,   
usually occupied by the long table that the professors dined at, made a   
picturesque setting for the extravagant peice of furniture housing Sirius'   
ensorceled form. Three wide steps granted access to the higher level where   
the bed stood, side facing out, curtains pooling like moonlit blood on the   
marble floor. Tonight the teachers were separated into two shorter tables at   
its head and foot. Guardians, almost, sentinels that prevented any curious   
witch or wizard from straying too close. Everyone knew the story now.   
Professor Thatcher had taken the opportunity to give an impromptu lesson to   
her assembled students.  
  
All across the Great Hall they were murmuring about the mishap, wondering,   
despite Thatcher's assurance that the mistake was nearly impossible to   
replicate, about the safety of brewing classes in general. Many were   
speaking in hushed tones of the consequences should Sirius fail to wake.   
Would Thatcher be fired? Would the Ministry shut Hogwarts down? Where would   
his body be kept? The more superficial ones were merely gossiping about   
Sirius himself -he always had a way of drawing attention.  
  
Look how pale he is, they whispered. What if the professors are wrong? What   
if he's really dead?  
  
Remus blocked those questions out.  
  
Following Dumbledore's announcement about the Kiss of True love, a line of   
girls had formed, twining all the way from the bed half way through the   
Great Hall. It wove between the Gryffindor and Slytherin house tables,   
crowding anyone who sat on that respective side. The lovely chicken dinner   
prepared by the house elves was practically forgotten. Everyone was too   
absorbed in the unraveling drama to notice the food on his or her plate,   
much less eat it.  
  
One by one, girls climbed the three steps, shoes clacking hollowly on   
marble, to place a lingering kiss on the lips of Hogwarts most famous -or   
infamous- bachelor. Tall girls, short girls, girls in yellow, blue, red,   
green, girls with boyfriends, girls alone, composed girls, anxious girls,   
and one by one, they filed to their seats, disappointed. Nobody it seemed   
could fill Sirius with the life-fire of real love. The boy was impregnable,   
a fortress in ruby satin.  
  
The meat on Remus' plate had begun to look diseased, he'd stabbed it so   
much.  
  
Another girl, another kiss, no movement. A sense of unreality tainted the   
air. Meanwhile the professors hunched together and spoke in suspiciously   
lowered voices. There was already discussion of whether his body should   
remain at Hogwarts, or perhaps be encased in some Ministry display as an   
example of why certain magic was forbidden. Maybe they'd just entomb the   
boy.  
  
They would use a glass coffin, regardless, that much was understood. Sirius   
was simply too gorgeous to be locked away in some dark peice of wood. The   
death-touch only added to his beauty. He'd always defied gender, with his   
heart-shaped face, small nose and high cheekbones. The thick curve of his   
eyelashes and the cut of his lips were angrogynous, and now ethereal,   
angelic, cast in a sleep so deep it mimicked its more permanent brother.   
Even his hands, his throat, arched sublimely as they succumbed to eternity.   
Cassandra Black lived in her only son's face and form, if nothing else. He   
could have been a Greek statue, carved in flawless stone, he lay so still.   
And like a Greek statue he would never wake, existing only to grace the eyes   
of every generation until the end of time.  
  
The way Sirius looked only contributed to the night's apocryphal aura. It   
was nothing like his normal appearance; Anyone who knew him would barely   
recognize him. Usually his heavy hair obscured the cut-distinct outlines of   
his face, bangs and wild locks had a way of covering what they fell upon.   
His blue-violet eyes dominated completely when open, so much so that one   
barely noticed the rest of him. Sharp and distracted, always lost in the   
recesses of a too-quick mind. And no grace ever graced him -Sirius' own feet   
tripped him up. It was hard to see past the smile and the muggle clothes he   
insisted on wearing to the intrinsically swooping lines of him. But   
now...now...  
  
Another girl, another kiss. Remus stabbed his chicken again.  
  
"Oh, Peter!" cried a voice, and the masses of tightly curled brown hair that   
distinguished Veronica Springhip launched at the stolid boy. "Peter!"  
  
"Ronnie!" Peter leapt up to catch her. They embraced frantically.  
  
"Peter, I'm so sorry!" Ronnie said, muffled in his shoulder.  
  
He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry! Can you ever forgive me?"  
  
"Always!"  
  
"I love you."  
  
No more words were needed. The two kissed sweetly, hands clasped. Now that   
Ronnie and Peter had made-up, the relationships of the Marauders were fully   
restored to order, Lily and James having forgiven thir latest issue when   
James had desperately sought her out for comfort. Peter and Ronnie, James   
and Lily, Sirius surrounded by hopeless admirers and Remus, alone. It was a   
consolation to at least have those pillars in the overwhelming stress that   
knocked their world around.  
  
"It's so terrible, about Sirius." sighed Ronnie after her boyfriend let her   
go. "Just...so terrible."  
  
Lily winced as James' fingers gripped her's painfully. "I know." she agreed,   
soothing him with her eyes.  
  
"I'm so afraid that this won't work." The Hufflepuff whimpered.  
  
"It will work." grated James. "I'll follow him down and drag him back   
kicking and screaming if I have to. He's not leaving me."  
  
Remus didn't doubt it. The bond between Sirius and James was an   
extraordinary thing. Death, or eternal sleep, could hardly deter it. The   
Marauders had been based on that devotion, an all-surpassing loyalty, a   
love. And it was love, no macho posturing hid that.  
  
"All we can do is hope." Was Lily's reply.  
  
The next girl was a short brunette with shaking hands. A Hufflepuff. She sat   
on the edge of the bed, leaned down, and pressed her trembling lips to   
Sirius'. Nothing. A blond Ravenclaw followed, sat, leaned, kissed, nothing.  
  
Sirius would hate this if he were conscious, Remus knew. He would feel   
violated, slutty, despite his helplessness. Slowly, the light-haired wizard   
ripped his napkin, unawares of the destruction he was causing. He could stop   
this, he knew that too, but in front of the entire school? Each kiss was   
meticulously watched, such was the morbid curiousity of the students. Could   
he be that brave? It would risk everything, including the friendships he   
survived on. Everything.  
  
But to kiss Sirius, just once. To kiss the sky.  
  
Up went a Gryffindor, tall. Nothing.  
  
Remus balked. Why did Dumbledore have to do this in front of everybody?   
Certainly the process was easier, considering the length of the line, but   
the humiliation, the exposure!  
  
A freckled fourth year departed in unfulfillment. Still the line wound on.  
  
James was willing to defy death for their friend. Couldn't he struggle   
through the tiny sacrifice of school-wide embarrassment and absolute   
alienation?  
  
How could he even ask himself that?  
  
"This is ludicrous!" he exploded, throwing down his ruined napkin in naked   
disgust. The chair scraped the floor loudly as he thrust himself from it.  
  
"Remus, what are you doing?" James looked up at him, surprised.  
  
Remus never replied. He was shoving his way past the line of girls, headed   
straight up the aisle and trying to ignore the attention his actions   
generated. The thud-thud-*thud* of his heartbeat filled his ears. The steps   
seemed to be a veritable mountain. The bed was a malevolent star, burning   
around its captive.  
  
But he scaled the mountain and broached the fire-storm, and a hush of   
confused apprehension cloaked the Great Hall.  
  
Suddenly, alone on that platform, the world shrank into a revolving, icy   
glass ball, trapping him and the boy he loved inside. Hogwarts rolled away   
into a fog. Remus stepped haltingly to the bedside, staring at Sirius'   
otherwordly face, so marble-pale against the red and void-black. So   
beyond-human.  
  
The satin coverlet was silky -that much he could tell even through his   
robes- underneath the knee he braced on the Headmaster's bed. A dent born of   
his weight bent the mattress slightly.  
  
His hands tingled on dark ruby pillows, the texture smooth, more like   
cotton, except where hair caught beneath his palms, and then it was slick,   
soft.  
  
Was the world holding its breath too?  
  
Elbows gradually folded and, not quite aware of himself, Remus leaned,   
leaned down, excruciatingly down, endlessly down-  
  
-Down.  
  
And then his mouth crashed into Sirius'.  
  
Colors burst behind his eyelids -vivid. White, red, black, blue-violet   
flickering. His muscles trembled -his soul trembled. A soundless,   
magic-wrought wind slipped through the air, swept up the curtains and loose   
blankets into a rustling whirlwind. And there, where the only calm place was   
at the joining, the Kiss of True Love, time dangled. Hearts stopped.   
Volcanoes could have erupted, the earth could have rended, the sky could   
have fallen, but Remus would never have known. Not then in that moment when   
it seemed purity was light and light found its source at his lips.  
  
Eternity clawed at its prisoner, searching for purchase, and was denied.  
  
A breath not his own rushed into his mouth. With it, the wind ceased.  
  
Remus straightened.  
  
Please, he begged.  
  
Thud. Thud. *Thud*.  
  
Gentle, sluggish, Sirius' eyes slit open. "Oh fuck," then closed again, "who   
turned on the bloody sun?"  
  
It had worked.  
  
He turned on his heel and strode, head down, through the stunned gazes and   
gasps. All he knew was that he had to get out, had to run, hide, think.   
Perferably someplace dark, quiet, and alone. No one followed him.  
  
*  
  
"So you're telling me," Sirius rubbed a hand over his face, desperately   
atempting to cope with the last seven hours of his life. "That we concocted   
some twisted love/sleep/time-warping potion that nearly put me under for all   
time."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Close enough."  
  
The dark-haired boy narrowed his eyes on a speck of dust, the same way he   
did wheneever he was muddling through a problem that escaped him. James   
fully expected a question about how he'd been awoken next. They hadn't   
gotten that far yet. Frankly, James himself was having a hard time coming to   
terms with that part and having to inform his returned best friend was not   
going to assuage his quivering nerves. Of all people, who would have thought   
*Remus* had it in him. Remus! It was giving him a headache.  
  
Here it came -Sirius was giving up on figuring it out for himself.   
"Well...how in hell did we do *that*? I was sure I had all of the   
ingredients right. Maybe the stirring? Or did some of those batwing slices   
fall in after all...I just can't see where I went wrong..."  
  
"For Merlin's sake!" James smacked his forehead. Typical. "Don't you care   
how we cured you?!"  
  
"I'm getting to that. First, I'd like to know how I messed up in the first   
place."  
  
"It was the chrysanthemum root. Your potion called for crystalline Roon."   
the Headmaster answered.  
  
Sirius glared at his wild-haired friend. "That's the last time I use *your*   
notes for potion-work."  
  
"Stuff it."  
  
"How did you guys cure me, anyway?"  
  
James rolled his eyes, more disgusted than ever with Sirius' priority   
system. "We let anyone who wanted to kiss you have a go. In front of the   
entire school. For over an hour."  
  
"*What*?!"  
  
For the second time that afternoon, Dumbledore had to soothe a distraught   
teenage wizard and lecture on Fairy Tale Potions. Sirius listened, rapt and   
horrified, to every serene word. The information was being filed away   
perfectly in his head, James could tell, which was good because he had   
forgotten most of it already and he wasn't paying attention this time. No   
doubt they'd want to recant the tale sometime in the future, even if it was   
years from now to their grandchildren. Right now he had other things on his   
mind. Like how the hell to tell one best friend that another of the same   
gender was in love with him. Of course it was up to him to do it, no one   
else would.  
  
And then there were the repercussions. James had always been good at   
planning ahead, at seeing and dealing with the consequences before they   
actually happened. The way he totalled it, there were four ways this could   
end. Sirius could admit that he and Remus had been secretly involved prior   
to the fiasco, so the sudden outing was their only problem. Or maybe Sirius   
would be thrilled and run off to jump Remus' bones, which wasn't much   
different. Sirius could be shocked but accepting, a bit more complicated   
because he'd have an unrequited werewolf on his hands as well as public   
opinion. Worst scenario, Sirius would be shocked and disgusted, in which   
case a whole slew of problems crashed down. Damn it.  
  
Poor Remus, James thought, aware for the first time the pain that the other   
boy must be feeling. This on top of the curse -the world apparently had a   
deep, inexplicable grudge against him. He hoped Sirius took it well. The   
idea of Remus beat down any more made his heart ache.  
  
"Whoa." Sirius whimpered. "Whoa. That's intense. I...whoa."  
  
Dumbledore's response was to place a hand on his shoulder. "Just be glad   
someone loved you enough to lift the spell. You'd be asleep forever   
otherwise."  
  
Sirius closed his eyes and sank onto his back, flabbergasted.  
  
Any moment now it would hit him. James braced himself.  
  
"Wait!" It hit. The black-haired wizard shot back up. "Who kissed me?"  
  
Every head swiveled to him, as he knew they would. But he couldn't -he   
couldn't find the right way to break it.  
  
"James?" Sirius prompted.  
  
It only it had been someone else, anyone else, this wouldn't be so hard. He   
wouldn't feel like he was betraying a trust.  
  
"Remus." He whispered.  
  
*  
  
The decrepit door squealed as it opened. Whoever was entering was afraid, or   
timid about intruding in his sacred hovel. It only made that sound when   
pushed forward slowly. Light footsteps advanced across the room, interrupted   
randomly by the sound of mangled furniture being nudged blindly out of the   
way. He knew the furniture was mangled because he'd done it himself. And he   
knew the movements were blind because the only illumination available in   
this place was a magically-protected candle which he hadn't lit. Still the   
person headed unerringly toward the far left corner where he huddled on a   
shredded, frameless mattress.  
  
Fumbling, and the candle fluttered to life. A dim light stung his eyes   
momentarily. He hadn't realized they were open. Another weight, too near,   
sagged his monthly bed, and the abused springs creaked.  
  
Quiet breathing.  
  
When Sirius finally did speak his voice was indefinably sad. Slow. Somber.   
Heavy. "Too many secrets, Remus."  
  
"I know."  
  
For a few minutes they were silent. The conversation would come eventually   
and they had no way of pretending -there was no escape. But for now both   
were content to sit wordlessly, bemused. Remus raised his head from his   
arms. There was no fear in him, just regret for a thing he couldn't change,   
acceptance, and the knowledge that Sirius was always true to his word. He   
would lose no friends today.  
  
"I can't-" began the black-haired boy, bluntly stating his position, a   
position Remus already knew.  
  
He stopped him. "I know."  
  
Another lapse into silence. Sirius shifted, kicked idly at a displaced   
chair-leg, then gave up and rested against the wall. Remus' steady   
contemplation of the air never wavered.  
  
Sirius tried again. "It's just-"  
  
Again Remus cut him short. "I know."  
  
"I care about you, Moony. I do, so much, but-"  
  
"I *know*." He said with more strength. "I know everything you're going to   
say. I've heard it out of your mouth a hundred times before: You're not   
ready for a relationship. You don't date. Period. No exceptions. It's too   
complicated and time-consuming and you've got better, more important things   
to concern yourself with. I know." If he stared any harder at the air it   
would freeze.  
  
"That's all bullshit. That's what I say, but it's just crap to keep people   
off my back." sighed Sirius.  
  
Remus shook his head numbly. "Don't lie. It's ok. I don't begrudge you what   
you are. I'm not angry and I don't expect anything from you. Don't feel like   
you owe me something for something that isn't your fault. Neither of us can   
change it, so we might as well accept the inevitable. I'm in love with you,   
I feel this way and I'm not going to stop -I don't even want to. I have for   
so long it would ruin me to lose it. And it doesn't have to affect our   
friendship. Please, don't try to change for me, to be something you're not   
to make me happy. Just let me love you," he pleaded, "just let me be Moony   
and you be Padfoot and that will satisfy me."  
  
Sirius had his eyes closed, his head pillowed back on the splintering wall.   
"I'm afraid." It was a half-there whisper.  
  
Very little could have surprised Remus then, but that did. "Of what?"  
  
"Of ruining things. That it won't work. I *could*, I mean, I want to be that   
to you, I *do*, I'm just...paralyzed by this irrational fear. It's the   
*real* reason why I don't date. I've never -There's no such thing as true   
love, Moony! I've believed that all my life! People just end up -end up   
hurting in the end. I don't want that for you. And I can't overcome this.   
Too weak. Too much of a coward."  
  
Long moments wasted away after that. The candlelight played havoc on Sirius'   
pained features as Remus appraised him, baffled. This was a side of his   
friend he'd never seen before. A boy incapable of believing in love, starved   
by the want of it, and cripled by the paradox. It made him love him all the   
more.  
  
There was no way he could ever love him less. Ever. And maybe Sirius would   
stop being afraid someday. Until that day, he could wait. He was so very   
good at waiting.  
  
"It's a little chilly in here." Remus murmured and stood, offering Sirius a   
hand. "And I missed dinner. Feel like a kitchen raid?"  
  
Sirius looked up at him, smiled wryly, and grasped the proffered hand. Their   
fingers clenching together was more than that of hand-helping-hand, it was   
understanding, closure. Eternity brushed by them again, begetting identical   
smiles, and Remus hauled the other boy to his feet.  
  
"Always."  
  
They walked out of the Shrieking Shack without dropping hands.  
  
*  
  
Seventeen Years Later  
  
Sirius looked down in the darkness on the face of his long-lost friend,   
relaxed in sleep. Remus had changed, even more than he'd noticed at their   
brief reunion in the Whomping Willow. His hair was grayer, his robes and   
room more tattered. Wrinkles pressed their crow's feet at the corner of his   
eyes. He seemed older.  
  
But so much remained the same. Memories panged him. The light-haired man   
still slept on his back, still used as many blankets as he could find, still   
breathed through his mouth while dreaming. The shape of him had not changed.   
The aura of him would always be one of pain and peace and patience.  
  
Remembering a sleep of so long ago, the ruined man knelt and oh-so-gently   
butterflied his lips against the pair parted in dreaming.  
  
Remus snapped awake instantly. Defensive hands flung out against the   
intruder, one on his neck, the other on his arm, and -stopped. Amber eyes   
focused, widened.  
  
"...Sirius?" he breathed in wonder.  
  
"I'm not afraid anymore." Sirius said, hollow-eyed, body hovering above the   
familiar, beloved man who'd promised to wait before either of them had   
understood what waiting really was. The rickety bed creaked. Not a red,   
satin-sheeted one but more somehow. "I'm not afraid."  
  
And, smiling, Remus pulled him down for a kiss more drugging than any sleep.  
  
*  
  
End 


End file.
